As the parrot flies, solid food, service -- and sometimes cash

Jan. 27, 2009

Diners eat lunch in the tropically themed Rum Jungle Buffet in Casino Fandango in Carson City. Buffet patrons look up hopefully when a squawking mechanical parrot that releases money makes its way overhead on a track that runs throughout the casino. / Johnathan L. Wright/Reno Gazette-Journal

Once or twice every hour, a mechanical parrot that randomly dispenses money from its tail "flies" above Rum Jungle Buffet, moving along a ceiling track running throughout Casino Fandango in Carson City.

Folks have been known to compete too vigorously for the moola, staffers tell me, lunging for it on the buffet floor or snatching it from the air, at the last minute, when the money's trajectory clearly indicates touchdown at a neighboring booth.

During several visits to Rum Jungle over the past year or so, I never witness body blows, but when the parrot's caw signals its approach, almost every head (this reviewer's included) shoots up expectantly, like puppies awaiting a treat.

But the reaction is understandable. Pennies from heaven might be one thing, but $1s (and sometimes $20s) are quite another.

The parrot is in keeping with Rum Jungle's tropical theme, which is elsewhere accomplished through a green glass ceiling, faux palms and other flora, and a rank of wooden fans that swooshes back and forth.

The effect is kitschy -- and Nevada natives might scoff -- but it's the sort of kitsch that visitors (and non-natives like me) often appreciate.

Solid selection

The food at Rum Jungle is generally solid, too.

I like the sweet-sour strips of marinated jicama at the salad bar, which is stocked with about two dozen toppings and add-ons (including pea salad swathed in mayonnaise, a favorite from childhood church potlucks).

Albondigas (Mexican spiced meatball) soup offers itself for ladling at one lunch; the presence of the soup and the jicama salad says as much about America's evolving tastes and demographics as any study.

For fans of tortilla chips -- and really, who isn't? -- there's a topping bar with pico de gallo, salsas, shredded cheese, grilled chiles and sour cream. I'm tempted to pile everything on plate and hand it to a cook for nuking into nachos.

(Question for the casino: Would it be possible to set out a microwave for this purpose?)

Chinese barbecued ribs are properly flavored and nicely fatty (perhaps a bit too much so). The stew portion of beef Stroganoff is rich and satisfying enough that I skip the buttered noodles (thought I incorporate them on a second trip).

Macaroni and cheese features bread crumbs and a clumpy style of cheese. Now that might indicate a cheese that melts better should be chosen -- or not. I like a smooth sauce, but some folks like the clumps and their textural affinity with the crumbs.

Mistakes, yes, but service shines

If there's an overall misstep with the food at Rum Jungle, it's that some dishes are lukewarm and a bit dry, indicating they might be idling in the hotel pan or under the heat lamp too long.

These infractions mar the carving station ham and otherwise acceptable cilantro lime chicken and tilapia with pineapple sauce.

The bread pudding, however, delivers redemption. It's slightly dense and lumpy, as bread pudding should be. I dispense with vanilla sauce and take on the pudding unadorned.

Within a buffet context, service ranks among Rum Jungle's highlights.

One one visit, a cashier cheerfully calculates which combination of casino points and other discounts yields the best price (these are thrifty times, after all).

Beverage selections are written on the receipt at the register so diners can get to the food without waiting for a server; this practice might not work at larger and busier buffets, but here it does.

Refills arrive quickly and plates are whisked away, which is what you want from buffet service. Many customers greet the staff like friends, and the restaurant feels kid friendly.

I never tire of good buffets; they're part of Nevada's dining identity (no matter what food snobs say). And when I'm in the capital city, a visit to Rum Jungle is often in order (though I wish the crępe bar would return so I could tuck into a few filled with creamed tarragon chicken).